Starkissed Skies
A cool breeze drifted across the clearing, tents and campfires littering the land as the Alliance prepared for the siege.
Dizarak leaned against the base of a long since fallen tree, eyes darting to and from various faces, his gaze lingering on the reason he found himself within the ranks of the Alliance once more. The middle aged human male sat among a few others, boisterous drunken cheers detailing how he would do this that and the other thing to his enemies. Displaying his Broken Isle sized ego that frankly the Ren'dorei couldnt even fathom how it fit in his small frame.
Silently the hired guard prayed his charge would run screaming from the fight in the morning or perhaps be entirely too trashed to merely figure out how to escape the opening of his tent. At least then Dizarak wouldn't have to throw himself into the fray to defend a simpleton.
He dropped his arms to his sides as one of the higher ranked soldiers wandered past, his hand falling to a rectangular shape in his hip pouch. He coughed to clear his throat as his face flushed slightly, hoping it had been enough to cover for him. Once the General had passed he slipped a hand inside the pouch to retrieve the pack of handrolled ciagrettes. He tapped the container against his wrist and slid one of the vice sticks from its shelter, sticking one end in his mouth opposite of the ever present lip ring. Dizarak exchanged the pack for a small set of matches, striking it on the bark of the fallen tree and holding it to the cigarettes end.
With a flick of his wrist he snuffed out the match, stopping abruptly before tossing it to the ground as he caught a Kaldorei watching him. He dipped his head and stuck the spent match in his pack, how long had she been watching him?
The sound of clanging metal as friendly soldiers sparred occasionally drowned out the large Draenei male nearby preaching about the Naaru, much to the delight of the female Lightforged next to him atop a stump. Fahliona, if Dizarak had remembered correctly, a newly forged Draenei who seemed to have some kind of distaste for the light despite her gilded form.
Blue eyes blinked at her blankly for a moment as she repeated her question, "Could I bum one of those from you?"
Diz nodded and retrieved the pack once more, giving up one wouldn't kill him, he had a whole second pack tucked away for the week ahead. Passing it to her he watched as she lit it from the flames engulfing her blades and take a drag.
The other male in their oddly silent gathering at the side of camp declined the offer and instead sat stiffly on the ground in his armor looking far too uncomfortable in his surroundings. This ones name was Eitaam, Dizarak recognized him from the tavern.
He took a long drag off his own cigarette and turned his face to the heavens as he blew the smoke skyward. The star kissed sky above him stretched for miles, slightly harder to see with the light pollution from the sprinkling of campfires along the edges of the glade.
Tomorrows battle left a lingering tenseness like a blanket around the three, far less interested in prematurely celebrating what would end in no doubt countless lost lives. Dizarak had remained mostly quiet as the two others occasionally spoke to one another his mind elsewhere.
"Why do you not have a seat? You must have tired legs, elf." The female prodded as she squinted at him, the Bloosthistle in her cigarette clearly slowing her down.
"On duty," he blushed once more before flicking his chin at the human now standing and demonstrating how he would apparently end a Tauren, "When he passes out I might." He lied, shifting uncomfortably on his feet as he directed another cloud of smoke this time attempting to keep it in front of him concealing his squirming slightly.
I'd love to sit down, he thought to himself, but the good byes this morning had been a bit rougher than expected.
Fhaliona, laid backwards closing her eyes and draping her head over the edge of the large stump, "When will the world stop spinning?" She asked, and the dark haired void elf stifled a laugh.
"The guy who gave me those smokes two packs of these a day, says he has for a long time."
She bolted upright almost too fast, holding her head and narrowing her eyes at him, "H-how!?" blearily the Warrior rubbed at her eyes, trying in vain to ease her clouded vision.
Dizarak simply shrugged at her.
Eitaam slipped a water bladder from his belt and stood holding it out to the elevated Draenei, "You should be drinking this." He spoke with a deep thick accent. They watched her as she uncorked the container and downed nearly the entire thing before holding it still open to Eitaam once more, the cap seemingly vanished from the time it was removed.
The unusually tall male held out a gloved hand for the water bladder and offered to fill it up, "Eitaam, keep an eye on knuckle head over there will you?" the Vindicator saluted and with a loud groan set himself upon the ground once more.
Making his way through the camps the rogue reached the waters edge, dipping the bladder he set to refilling it, stopping when his eyes locked on the reflection of the sky, he lifted his gaze to the stars once more.
"Underneath the same sky." He muttered aloud.
Mentions of the following:
Eitaam-Wyrmrest Accord
Fahliona-Wyrmrest Accord
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